


C

by ashamedbliss, orphan_account



Series: government hooker [1]
Category: Muse
Genre: AU, Bodyguard, Drug Use, M/M, Polyglot, Spies & Secret Agents, contemporary, dubcon, weapon play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:24:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashamedbliss/pseuds/ashamedbliss, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the young bodyguard Dominic Howard is asked to dinner by his new boss, C, the night doesn’t pan out quite as expected...</p>
            </blockquote>





	C

Dominic stands with his back to the door, looking out over the panoramic London skyline. It’s raining outside.

“What do you mean, ‘not possible’? Do you have _any_ idea who you are speaking to?”

As he often does, Bellamy is barking into his mobile phone, back turned to Dominic as he too stares out over the grey landscape. Dominic has been serving as Bellamy’s personal bodyguard for just two weeks now, and still hasn’t quite gotten used to his brash insistence on getting his own way.

“ _An intelligence officer_?! Get your fucking head out of your arse, I’m the head of MI6 and if you _ever_ disrespect me like that, we cut off the contract and sue you. Do you understand?”

Dominic adjusts his in-ear monitor discreetly before he folds his hands in front of himself again. He doesn’t particularly see why _C_ needs protection in his own headquarters, but Bellamy insisted since he first began his job a year ago that he receive round the clock protection. Dominic’s co-workers joked that it was due to his small frame and slight weight, but Dominic is beginning to form other ideas.

He’d had no idea that Bellamy was as important as he seems to be. The head of MI6... it makes his head spin. He might as well be guarding the Prime Minister, for fuck’s sake. Never in his life had he ever thought that this was the kind of business he’d be doing. It’s dizzying. And what’s most harrowing is the thought of just how important his job is. What would happen if C were to take a bullet? Would the entire country fall?

Seeing as it’s something that may be resting in his own hands, he doesn’t really want to think about it.

The call disconnects. He hears a chair smack against the desk as Bellamy rams it violently into place. Dominic tenses. He hadn’t been prepared for his charge to be this volatile, either. He’s never seen anyone so quick-tempered in his life, and as hired muscle, that’s saying something.

Bellamy stands with his back to Dominic still as he redials on his phone.

“Jenny? Yes, it’s Matt…”

Dom can’t help but smirk a little. That wasn’t the first name he’d expected. For some reason he’d always pictured it as beginning with a ‘c’, but perhaps that was too obvious. If that _is_ his real name, anyway. He still can’t get used to hearing it, even though he must have done so at least ten times now.

“Fine thanks... I enjoyed Saturday too... look, can I get a table for two? Yes I know it’s a Friday night... oh really, the Saudi ambassador has booked up _all_ the tables?” Bellamy’s tone is laced with sarcasm. “And you can’t free a table for me?” Bellamy sighs loudly. “Fine, whatever. Oh, and Jenny? You’re a terrible shag.”

Bellamy hangs up and quickly redials a number.

“Felicity, hi... Monday lunch was great, we should do it again. I mean, you know, the hotel hook-up bit, not so much the fight with your boss... Have you got a table for two free? Really? Um...” Bellamy checks his watch, an expensive Rolex that Dominic quite appreciates, as a fan of good watches himself. “About seven, half seven? Yeah I’ve got my own security. Yeah, out of the way but not romantic. Okay. Cheers...” Bellamy shocks Dominic and actually giggles. That’s something he wasn’t expecting either. “Maybe if you’re a good girl and call me daddy.”

Bellamy clears his throat loudly as he remembers he’s not alone in the room with a glance over his shoulder. Dominic raises his eyebrows. “I’ll let you know,” Bellamy says into the phone, before hanging up.

“You. Yes, the new one,” that hard voice snaps. Dominic almost jumps out his skin. It’s not often Bellamy addresses him to his face, as he turns his back on the window. My God, he’ll never get used to that face. It’s so bloody... _triangular_. It’s not bloody natural. He feels as if he has suddenly been called back into the real world, into existence, when the hooded blue eyes settle on him.

“I’m taking you to dinner.” Dominic’s eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, before he realises how utterly unprofessional that looks. “God, no, you idiot. I meant as my security. Keep your dick in your trousers. I bet you’re still wet behind the ears, aren’t you? Fucking puppy.”

Bellamy is right in front of Dominic now, yet Dominic stands taller and broader than him, as not only his bodyguard but as almost every single other man does. No matter his size, Bellamy is still completely unnerving and terribly handsome, yet Dominic’s face remains stoic. He knows he isn’t wet behind the ears, and his strings of past girlfriends would happily tell this short wanker otherwise.

But Dominic keeps his mouth closed about that, and about how attractive he finds his new boss, as Bellamy smirks and steps away. “I thought so. Come on.”

Dominic shadows Bellamy towards the lifts and then down to the lobby, remaining silent as he does. He’s seen some of the other bodyguards work with Bellamy, especially when he was shadowing them as he learned the ins and outs of the job, and some of them would happily make small talk with the man. Bellamy seems to take a disliking to him, though, and Dominic simply shuts up and does his job. Wouldn’t want to upset him. He has a feeling he might have the actual real life James Bond of today set on him if he did.

They make their way down into the garage, where Bellamy’s driver is waiting in the kind of blacked out Mercedes that is so common in London it’s actually the best form of camouflage. Dominic climbs into the back alongside Bellamy, and they emerge from the darkness of the garage into the grey light of the fading afternoon.

“Are we meeting someone else for dinner, sir?” Dominic dares to ask. It’s in his remit, after all. He needs to know the situation and be aware of any upcoming changes to it. Surely, Bellamy would understand, being the bloody prodigy of MI6, youngest leader ever, _blah blah blah_. Dominic wasn’t too fussed about the contents of his file. He wouldn’t bother checking even if he had access to that information.

He is offered a muted, cold laugh as an answer. “Of course not.” Of course. Because that was so very obvious. No further explanation presents itself - something Dominic is quickly becoming used to in Bellamy’s presence. Who would’ve believed it, a secretive intelligence officer.

Dominic nods. And they fall silent again.

“So, just us then?”

“Once _he’s_ out of the way,” Bellamy spits, gesturing dismissively at his driver. “Yes. Why, are you getting ideas? You sound like one of those girls. You’ll see. Can’t I just eat some good food in peace?” Bellamy sighs, sinking back into the plush leather of the Mercedes. “It’s a stressful lifestyle.”

Dominic nods. And they fall silent again.

He can’t wait to get out of the car. It’s bloody stifling in here.

Finally, the car pulls up and stops completely. Dominic had been half convinced that Bellamy had booked a table in Manchester, time had been dragging that slowly. They climb out of the car and head straight into the restaurant. They look perhaps a little overdressed, Matthew in a light grey three-piece suit and Dominic in a standard black suit he’d bought at Marks and Spencers, and even then it’d cost him an arm and a leg. He was quite sure Bellamy’s was from Armani, but that also failed to surprise him.

It’s a part of town Dominic has never had the good fortune to find himself in before - well, not for a night out. He’s only ever passed through, tipsy and clumsy-footed, on the way back from much less glamorous scenes. There is perhaps the occasional outline of a building he can recognise, though - fuck, he must have been pissed when he was here. It feels more like a dream than anything else.

The restaurant is dark, and Dominic has learnt in his time to associate the amount of light in the restaurant to how much it will cost. Bellamy speaks with the waiter who greets them as Dominic does his usual security checks, scanning around for exits, concealed areas and all of that. He feels on edge, knowing that Bellamy has brought him to a place that is completely foreign to him.

Then again, his target is hardly a sitting duck either. At least, compared to the Prime Minister, Matthew Bellamy would be able to fight his way out of a paper bag.

And possibly some kind of high security detention centre too, but Dominic tries not to think about what _C_ might’ve done during his active service.

If it wasn’t the head of the Secret Service sitting across the table from him, it would look just like any other pair out for a meal together. The innocuous blacks and greys of their suits blends in seamlessly with the similar attire of all the other patrons, and they melt into the safe anonymity of the upper class without a trace. But they aren’t just anyone - well, C isn’t. There’s a reason behind this. There’s got to be, there always is. But they aren’t mentioning the elephant in the room.

“They do a really nice wine here,” Bellamy comments unremarkably. “Really full. Red. I could drown in the stuff.”

Dominic nods. “I don’t drink wine, myself,” he says, adjusting his tie just a little as he glances around the room. Their table is pressed up into a corner, and Dominic has the best view of the room as Bellamy sat with only his bodyguard for a view.

“That’s boring,” Bellamy snaps, as his eyes never leave the menu. “They do a beautiful steak here though. Don’t tell me you’re a vegetarian or I’m going to tell you to fuck off right now.”

There is a ghost of a smirk on Bellamy’s lips, but Dominic takes another glance around the room before looking down at his menu. Anyone else would think he was simply a nervous man on his first date. **“** I love a good cut of meat, actually.”

The smirk is now fully on Bellamy’s lips as he looks up, hawk like features only emphasised by the lights above him. “I bet,” he says, before casting his eyes down at his menu once more. “Have you chosen?”

“I--”

Matthew raises his hand, and instantly a waitress stands at his side. A smile spreads across his face. “Laurine!” he says happily, standing slightly to kiss the woman on both cheeks. “ _Ça va?_ ”

The waitress blushes, and Dominic inwardly rolls his eyes. He hadn’t bothered to memorise the list of all the languages that Bellamy could speak, and had heard quite the number throughout office hours these past two weeks. It went without saying that he would use hislinguistic skillsto speak to pretty women.

They converse for a short period of time, the French completely lost on Dominic’s ears, until she gestures towards him. He sits up and clears his throat quietly. Bellamy looks at him, laughs, and snaps something back at her in the language. She bows her head, before Bellamy requests the wine in English.

She has barely sashayed out of view when Bellamy’s stare snaps in his direction once more, the probing blue unflinching despite the almost perverse nature of his interest.

“So, er…” he squints. “What _is_ your name, anyway? I do forget these little things.”

Dominic raises an eyebrow. He’s slightly insulted, but it’s not like he can afford to show it. The last thing he wants is Britain’s biggest baby to throw a temper tantrum.

“Dom. Dom Howard, sir.”

Bellamy guffaws unguardedly. “I wasn’t aware this was the eighteenth century. For fuck’s sake, call me Matthew.” His eyes alight on the wine arriving from the bar, and he releasing a gleaming grin. “Though I have to admit I like your obedience.”

The waitress uncorks the wine. Dominic thinks it looks quite expensive, and belatedly realises he didn’t order a drink himself, or rather, he wasn’t given the chance.

“Would you like to taste the wine?” she asks sweetly, in a heavily accented French accent. Dominic presumes that the majority of Matthew’s and her encounters didn’t require much talking, anyway. Bellamy shakes his head, before she pours them both a glass.

“Oh, none for me, thank you,” Dominic says, starting confidently but his voice withers away as Matthew looks at him.

“Pour him a glass,” Matthew says, and she continues to do so. Dominic sits silently as she takes their orders for food, both of them ordering steak.

“I’m working, s-- Matthew. Your safety would be threatened if--”

Matthew laughs again, loudly, as the waitress leaves the bottle on the table and walks away. “Please,” he says disapprovingly, as he brings his glass to his face and takes a deep sniff. “Can you smell that? It has a velvety undertone.” Dominic blinks, sniffing gingerly at his glass. The scent makes his head spin. “Anyway, as if I need protecting. Do you know how many times I was nearly shot in Moscow? Don’t answer that.” Matthew sips his wine and sighs happily, his lips stained blood red.

Dominic takes a sip, immediately hates the taste, but swallows it down anyway. “Why do you pay for round the clock protection then if you can protect yourself?”

He hardly realises he’s said it, but then it’s out there and Matthew’s looking at him and he’s absolutely positive he’s about to get his arse fired. But then Matthew smiles.

“I’m not answering that,” he says, “but, Dominic, I would like to ask you some questions in return.”

Dominic hardly thinks that’s fair but he daren’t open his mouth again. He sips at his wine nervously.

“So,” Matthew ponders softly. “Are you actually wet behind the ears, then?”

Dominic almost spits out his drink. He eyes the tittering Matthew with a resentful glare. As if he needed to be humiliated even more tonight.

“No,” he grumbles, wiping his mouth tritely. “I’ve actually had quite a few girlfriends.”

“Of course,” Matthew assures him oleaginously. “I was just, you know. Worried. That you might not be up for tonight.”

“That worries me as to what will be happening tonight,” Dominic replies carefully.

“Good,” Matthew says. “It should.”

The waitress arrives with their steaks just then, and Dominic doesn’t quite know if it’s a blessing or a curse. He quickly decides it’s a blessing though, as he catches the smell of the meal on his plate. His charge glances up slyly.

“ _Mangiare_.”

Matthew cuts into his steak and Dominic watches him rather decidedly press the blood out of its red core. Matthew must catch him staring; he narrows his eyes coolly, and takes a carnivorous mouthful.

“I do like it rare,” he smiles, at last gulping it down.

Dominic fidgets with the heavy cloth napkin a while before he follows suit. Personally he prefers it well-done, but something in the thick austerity of the atmosphere discourages him from interrupting the meal, and he chews reluctantly on the pink flesh.

“What made you want to be a bodyguard, Dominic?”

Dominic thinks as he chews, but even as he swallows and his mouth is empty he can’t think of an answer to the unexpected question. Matthew is staring at him expectantly. “I was in the army,” he says. Matthew’s eyebrows rocket up. _Dominic, 1, Matthew, 0._ “I did a couple of years fresh from school, got a tour in, but then they started talking about promotion. I’m not really a leader,” Dominic says with a shrug, sipping at his wine. Matthew remains silent, so he continues. “I left when I was nineteen, turning twenty... did a couple of jobs here and there, then got recruited for personal security. Worked for a couple of airhead actresses and then...” Dominic laughs, and Matthew smiles at it. “I have no idea how I ended up working for _you_ , if I can be honest.”

“I’m always looking for young blood to keep the selection fresh,” Matthew says in a tone that Dominic can’t quite place. He realises perhaps there’s something Matthew isn’t telling him, but before he can say a thing he has a new question to answer.

“And do you enjoy working for me?”

Dominic gulps; the glint in Matthew’s eye leaves very little room for him to say no. “Of course,” he stutters, looking down at his meal to hide the embarrassed and quite frankly unwarranted blush creeping onto his cheeks. He cuts his steak and puts another bit in his mouth before he looks up at Matthew, his expression expectant. Dominic swallows the bite. “It’s a very rewarding job.”

Matthew laughs. “The day it’s truly rewarding is the day you take a bullet for me, sunshine.”

Dominic is fairly certain he conceals the discomfort elicited by the statement well, though he fears his boss has a remarkable talent for reading people. As he seems to have with, well, pretty much everything else.

Matthew smiles brightly, and it sends a slice of fear through Dominic. “Hopefully, of course, that won’t be anytime soon.” Matthew places his cutlery neatly on his plate and leans back. Dominic is sure he sees something moves under his jacket, and is just as sure that it’s a holster. “Are you done?”

Dominic nods, placing his napkin in his plate. Matthew raises his hand ever so slightly and a waitress is at his side once more with the bill, summoned instantaneously even by the minimal gesture. As Matthew pays with a sleek black credit card (not once looking at Dominic as to splitting the bill), Dominic belatedly realises that he’d hardly looked away from Matthew once during dinner. That was purpose of his job, he supposed, but not quite in the same manner.

“Having fun?” Matthew asks with a sneer in his voice. Dominic jolts out of his memory, looking at his boss.

“Yes, of course,” he says, before Matthew stands up and turns to leave the restaurant. Dominic follows him closely. He has no idea where Matthew is taking him next, but he daren’t ask.

A short car ride later, and Dominic can already hear the rapid thump of persistent dance music, thundering through the walls of a club and working it way into his bones. The insidious noise grows louder as they pull to a halt, and Matthew opens the door invitingly. Peeping through the open door, Dominic can see in vaporous neon green the name ‘ELYSIUM’ blazing above the entrance, when several smokers are sending wisps flurrying off into the night.

“Take it to the underground car park,” Matthew says to the driver flippantly. “Leave the keys in the usual place. Dominic will drive me home.” The driver nods obsequiously, before pulling away with a squeal of tyres.

Dominic eyes the scene unfolding before him with an air of suspicion. This certainly doesn’t look like the safest place he could allow this most precious of charges to disappear into.

“What?” Matthew prompts him, turning back to face him from the steps up to the door. “Are you game, or not?” he asks, the lights of the club dancing in his eyes and a smile on his face. Dominic quickly realises that Matthew knows these people, and is certainly not used to being stood up by some nobody.

Dominic fiddles with the button of his suit, before following Matthew inside the club. It’s dark yet smart, a bit more fancy than the bars he can afford to go to on his own pay packet. He imagines how much a pint costs. He whimpers as he follows Matthew upstairs into a slightly less crowded VIP bar. Matthew is recognised by face alone, obviously a regular.

“He’s with me,” Matthew says to the bouncer, and Dominic follows in silence. The music playing is his kind of music, at least; a catchy melody with a dirty bassline. Nervous as he is, Dominic thinks he might enjoy himself, especially as he’s not the only security personnel in the building.

They quickly find refuge from the sea of bodies clustered around the dance floor, where they can watch the fearsome dance of the lights from a more secluded spot. Matthew slides into a booth, beckoning Dominic in beside him. There are a few girls in clingy dresses already draped on the sofas, who holler excitedly at the newcomers, and Matthew kisses each one of them on the cheek.

“This is Dominic,” Matthew says loudly over the music, and a couple of the girls give Dominic the eye. Normally, he would give them the eye right back but he doesn’t quite feel that’s appropriate with his boss at his side. Especially as these girls seem to _belong_ to his boss.

A waiter appears at the end of their table, and Matthew shouts at him for two vodka shots. Vodka, unlike wine, is something that Dominic is well acquainted with, and so when the tiny glass is placed in front of him a few moments later, he smiles at Matthew.

“ _Za zdarov'e_ ,” Matthew says, smiling at Dominic before winking and necking his shot. Dominic does the same, placing his glass back down on the table and feeling the familiar burn spread through his chest. “It’s Russian,” Matthew says with a laugh, and Dominic almost has to double-take. This man is a complete opposite of the man who was shouting at people in his office this afternoon. “And that is the last alcohol I’m drinking tonight,” he continues, his arm brushing against Dominic’s as he leans closer to talk into his ear. “I want to be kinda sober for the fun later. You drink whatever you want though. Get fucking _loose_ ,” Matthew says, nudging Dominic in the side.

Eager not to disappoint, Dominic quietly stops another waiter with a tray of bright blue shot glasses, scoops up two in his hands and downs one, setting its twin down on the table for later. When he looks up to find Matthew sucking on the neck of a red-headed female accomplice he groans inwardly, downs the other shot anyway and glances off somewhere into the middle distance. He hopes he won’t have to drive Matthew back to a hotel with someone tonight. He’s had to do that for clients before and it is a uniformly tiresome experience to drive calmly on as he tries to ignore the moans coming from the backseat.

“Dominic?” He turns his head back to answer Matthew, whose hand still cups the curved waist of his companion from behind as he takes his bodyguard in. “Are you not enjoying yourself? Do you want to go and wait in the car?”

Matthew does not need to add ‘ _like a child_ ’ or ‘ _like a dog_ ’ for Dominic to hear the implication. His boss doesn’t think he’s up for it.

Matthew nods to a man approaching their table, looking suspicious. Dominic’s hand begins to slide towards his holster, but Matthew grabs his wrist and holds it still. “Jack,” Matthew says, standing up and reaching across the table to shake the man’s hand. Jack then walks away, and Dominic is left bewildered.

“Who was that?” he asks, as Matthew sits back down. With a low laugh, Matthew turns to Dominic and opens his palm. Inside is a tiny bag of white powder.

“Currently, my best friend in the whole fucking world,” Matthew says loudly, and the girls around him giggle. Dominic sits back, feeling quite uncomfortable. Drugs aren’t his thing, at all. In the army he had to avoid them unless he wanted to get sacked, and it’s the same with his new agency. Yet, here he sits with the head of the _fucking Intelligence services_ , who is about to snort cocaine in the middle of a nightclub. This is the front page of the Daily Mail just waiting to happen.

“Bloody hell,” Dominic says quietly as Matthew pours some of the powder out onto the sleek black table, taking a nondescript bank card offered to him by one of the girls. He neatly divides it into three lines as the table falls almost silent, watching him work diligently. Dominic can tell he’s done this before. He doesn’t quite know why he’s so interested. Perhaps there is a certain fascination in seeing someone do something they definitely shouldn’t be doing. 

Looking up from his work to give Dominic a grin, he passes the bag to one of the other girls, who begins the same process. “You get one next time, blondie,” he says, a dark look flashing over his features for a moment. “If you can make it through tonight, that is.”

Matthew shifts on the sofa, pulling out his wallet and flicking through the notes. Dominic continues watching intently, but with a sour pang of jealousy too. His charge takes a fifty pound note from his wallet, before putting the latter away and rolling the former into a tight cylinder.

Something about the illegitimacy of it all is quite thrilling. Matthew’s electric blue eyes glance at him once more, before he ducks down to the table, hiding the act from Dominic’s view with his mess of black hair. Dominic hears the loud sniffing noise, even against the processed throb of the relentless music, and Matthew sits up, rubbing at his nose repeatedly and eyes bright.

“Fuck!” he says, before looking at Dominic with a manic grin. The pupils of his eyes are blown wide already, gaping like black holes. He lets out a peal of giggles. “Now the fun begins.”

Matthew pulls at the redhead next to him, who was half way through a conversation with someone else, and immediately kisses her, touching her breasts over her dress. Dominic bites his lip, the outright depravity and danger of it all beginning to stir something in the bottom of his belly. He tries to look away. Honestly, he does. But there is nothing in the club which so demands his attention. Even when he shuts his eyes and tries to focus on the brash melody swimming around him, the awareness of Matthew is still there, titillating and dreadful.

For a moment he happens to glance in his charge’s direction, and the mere glimpse of a hand wandering under the table to reach between the girl’s legs is enough to suddenly make him aware of how acutely tight his trousers have become. He’s glad of the concealment offered by the table but sadly he cannot say the same for the burning blush which has settled on his cheeks. He is almost certain that Matthew has seen it, and is only trying to aggravate him further as he elicits more soft sighs from the woman in his arms.

“You like what you see, Dominic?”

Dominic’s eyes flash up to Matthew’s face at the husky question. Dominic opens his mouth to answer but his words don’t come out, and a smile creeps across Matthew’s face. “Don’t be shy now,” Matthew says, turning to quickly peck the girl on the lips before he turns away from her completely. “You should let your inhibitions go, we’re all free people, y’know?”

Dominic laughs nervously. “You’re fucking out of it.”

Matthew grins back at him. “Yes. But it’s made your cock hard, hasn’t it?”

He doesn’t have an answer for that. It’s not like he can deny it.

“You and I both, Dominic,” Matthew says, the sheer blackness of his eyes consuming him, and Dominic barely contains the groan at the way Matthew rolls his name on his tongue. “My cock is so hard,” Matthew purrs into Dominic’s ear, before reaching for Dominic’s wrist and guiding his hand into his lap. “Can you feel how hard I am, for you?”

Dominic jumps as his hand is suddenly against Matthew’s cock, just as hard as he’d been told and quite sizeable, even through his trousers. His racing mind catches up with what Matthew says, that he was hard just for him. Almost as a reflex, Dominic’s fingers close around Matthew’s erection.

“Good boy,” Matthew murmurs into his ear, whining a little as Dominic’s grip tightens. “Show me some fucking appreciation. Get on your knees.”

Dominic nods hurriedly. Shaking, positively brimming with stimulation, he sinks beneath the rim of the table. This is so revoltingly wrong, and he finds himself desperately aware of the fact. But something tells him he has very little choice about the matter. It is his boss, after all. He mustn’t disappoint.

And he doesn’t want to, either. He _wants_ to please Matthew, to add arousal to his artificial high, to make him have to keep a poker face while he’s being blown within an inch of his life. Well, Dominic hopes he’ll be that good, anyway. He hardly has experience of blowing top government officials under tables in questionable nightclubs. But he has a dick himself and he knows how he likes it to be sucked, so as he’s reaching for Matthew’s button and fly he’s thinking of that and that alone.

Matthew’s hand reaches below the table, fingers threading through Dominic’s hair as he pulls his dick out of his boxers quickly, wanting to get the task over and done with before he was caught. Dominic tenatively licks the tip of it, and Matthew thrusts his hips forward, begging for more contact as the fingers in his hair close up and twist at the strands. Encouraged and utterly turned on, Dominic sucks the head of Matthew’s cock into his mouth, the taste something he hadn’t expected but made him want more.

Sucking wetly, Dominic grips Matthew’s thighs, looking up through the gap in the table to meet his eyes. His charge looks up again and is talking to someone at the table. Dominic hums and sucks more of Matthew’s dick into his mouth. He wants Matthew’s attention entirely to himself, and he revels in the sight of his charge faltering in conversation above him. He sees Matthew bend forward, however, and as he snorts another line of cocaine Dominic groans loudly around him.

Dominic focuses fully on his task, daring to take Matthew’s dick further into his mouth. He has a brief reality check, remembering that here he is, knelt between his boss’ legs as he sucks him off, but the absolute naughtiness of it makes his own dick twitch in his trousers. He wonders if he’ll have a chance to sneak off to the bogs to crack one out, before Matthew pulls on his hair tightly.

“Get up,” he hisses.

Dominic obliges. He hauls himself back onto the seat, his holster jostling against his side with the movement, wiping his mouth surreptitiously. His eyes scour around the table. The other occupants didn’t notice or simply didn’t care.

“Try harder next time,” Matthew growls threateningly. Dominic wonders what his punishment might be, and whether he should be aroused by or afraid of what is to come, the dangerously thin line that is Matthew Bellamy. Matthew pushes against his shoulder and shoves him towards the exit of the booth as he follows suit, saying goodbye to his friends but _something came up_. Dominic tries not to laugh.

Before Dominic can ask, Matthew urges him to go to the car downstairs. Dominic lets out a mumbled laugh. He’d been worried about taking Matthew to a hotel, but he hadn’t realised that he would be the one spending the night with him. Well, if he is that lucky. Something tells him Matthew doesn’t have particularly romantic intentions - if the fingernails currently digging into his right buttock are anything to go by.

Matthew effectively shoves him down the concrete staircase, and Dominic is thankful he didn’t have anything more to drink or he would’ve done himself an injury for sure. The car is waiting on the far side of the sparse area, and Dominic swiftly traverses the tarmac to fumble with the door before realising he doesn’t have the keys.

“Do you have them?” he mumbles, made incoherent by intoxication and the destabilising effect of recent activities. Matthew shakes his head, laughing in coarse ridicule.

“We’re not getting in. Not yet.” He scans the car park quickly. There isn’t a soul in sight. Dominic watches as Matthew drops onto his hands and knees on the concrete.

“The fuck are you doing?” Dominic asks under his breath. Matthew reaches under the car, before Dominic hears a jingle of keys. Matthew stands up, jingling them in Dominic’s face.

“I fucking know what I’m doing,” he says, walking up to Dominic so that the blond backs up into the side of the car. Matthew stands just before him, pressing into his body and nose tracing up the side of Dominic’s neck. Dominic stops trying to lean back, and lets his eyes fall shut as he feels Matthew’s breath against his cheek. His eyes snap back open, however, as Matthew steps back and lets out a bark of laughter. “Not after where you’ve had that mouth, you filthy whore,” he drawls, and Dominic takes in Matthew’s dishevelled appearance. “Turn around.”

Dominic’s stomach drops. _Right here? Now?_ But he does as he’s told and Matthew guides him so he’s leaning over the bonnet of the Mercedes, weight on his hands and Matthew’s erection pressing against his arse.

“Stay there,” Matthew whispers. Dominic obeys, and hears the car door click open. Matthew soon returns, slamming it shut. Dominic jumps as his trousers are pulled down viciously. The cold air is bitter against his bare skin, but that is soon remedied as a pair of warm hands grope once more at the exposed flesh. Matthew’s thumbs slip down between his buttocks, parting them cleanly, and Dominic groans into the bonnet. He doesn’t know if it’s Matthew, or the alcohol in his system or any other combination of factors but all he wants in life right this very minute is Matthew’s cock buried in his arse.

“I’m going to lube you up so you don’t scream the fucking building down,” A low voice drawls in his ear. “Don’t get the wrong idea. It’s not because I like you or anything.”

One hand fastens itself in his hair savagely whilst the other returns to his skin, a slicked finger pressing against his entrance. Without any warning, Matthew presses the finger deep inside Dominic and the blond does his hardest not to make any noise at the intrusion. He is broader than Matthew, taller than Matthew, stronger than Matthew, but as Matthew adds a second finger he’s reduced to a whimpering mess on the bonnet of the car, barely able to hold himself up. Quickly, Matthew adds a third finger before withdrawing all three soon after, wiping them against the bottom of Dominic’s shirt. Dominic hears the tell-tale sound of a condom packet being opened.

“I’m only using a fucking rubber so I don’t catch anything off you.”

“I’m - I’m clean,” Dominic pants.

“Really?” A wicked snicker escapes his lips crassly. “Mate, I find that hard to believe. I’ve seen your entire sexual history. Did you forget who I am?”

Dominic screws his eyes shut as Matthew’s hands part him again, the excitement just enough to keep the harrowing fear for his personal privacy at bay.

“I’ll make sure you _never_ forget who I am.” And without another word, he pushes into Dominic without any warning, the latter writhing and crying out loudly beneath him. “Shut the fuck up,” Matthew snaps as he draws his hips back and slams into Dominic’s body once more. “You dirty cunt,” Matthew growls, gripping Dominic’s hair with one hand and digging his nails into his hips with the other.

Dominic feels as if he’s being torn in two, and for the first minute or so the pain outweighs the pleasure a huge amount. He claws frantically at the bonnet, his fingers sliding across smooth metal in some attempt to alleviate the strain, but as Matthew’s cock hits his prostate for one glorious moment a shudder of bliss courses through him.

“Oh, god,” he moans, bucking his hips back to meet Matthew’s cock. ”Please, more -”

“I thought I told you to shut the fuck up,” he spits, punctuated with another ruthless thrust. As Dominic tries to furtively reach for his own cock, he finds his wrist held fast in Matthew’s hand and pinned back to the bonnet mercilessly.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Dominic groans at the venom in Matthew’s voice. He’s never considered himself as a submissive even with the kinkier of his girlfriends, but being degraded in such a way by Matthew, of all people, is almost too much for him to cope with. He can feel his orgasm building, and he is so, so ready to come.

However, his orgasm doesn’t seem to be on Matthew’s agenda. Matthew moans loudly, holding Dominic’s tight as he speeds up his rhythm, voice increasing in pitch until he comes with a deep thrust and a loud cry, holding Dominic back against him as he rides out his orgasm. Quickly, Matthew pulls out, leaving Dominic to tremble against the bonnet of the car. He turns his head, watching Matthew throw the condom down a drain and tuck himself back in.

“Get a move on,” Matthew says, and Dominic’s mouth drops open.

“What?” Dominic gasps, turning from the bonnet and clumsily pulling up his trousers again. “But - I haven’t -”

“Like I give one,” Matthew snarls, beginning to move back towards the car from the drain before stopping. He laughs wickedly. “Aw, Dom, was I your first? Was I your first and only? Were you saving yourself?” he teases, putting on a high pitched voice and making Dominic feel like shit on the bottom of his shoe. Matthew laughs harshly, whipping the keys out from his pocket and swinging open the car door. “Get in.”

“You’re not driving.” Dominic says, standing his ground. “You’re high as a fucking kite.”

In a split second, Matthew has his pistol out of his holster and aimed square between Dominic’s eyes, point blank range. Dominic inhales loudly, but says nothing and does nothing.

“Get. In.” Matthew says slowly, allowing a smile to tease the corners of his lips as Dominic sighs, stepping towards the door on the passenger’s side.

“I fucking hate you,” Dominic says in a deadly serious tone, before getting into the car.

“But you just let me plough you over the bonnet of my car,” Matthew adds, putting his pistol back into his holster as he gets into the driver’s seat and makes himself comfortable, adjusting the seat and moving it closer to the wheel. “Makes sense,” he says, catching his reflection in the rear view mirror and adjusting his hair a little, before putting the keys in the ignition and starting the car.

As the vehicle moves a little shakily out of place it catches the bumper of another car, and Dominic curses under his breath. Matthew hardly seems to notice. Though his eyes are firmly trained on the road ahead as they pull out of the mouth of the building, Dominic becomes aware of a hand which should be on the gearstick but continues to drift adventurously over to rest on his knee. 

“Matthew, please just concentrate on the road.”

“I can multitask,” Matthew declares proudly, his palm sliding up onto Dominic’s thigh. Dominic’s breath hitches in his throat.

The Mercedes ambles carefully around the corner. Matthew stubbornly refuses to move his hand even to change gear, and as a result the engine wheezes in protest as he drags it around in first gear. At last, they pull up at a junction onto the main road, and Dominic gasps as fingers dig into the soft flesh of his inner thigh, as if making a point of neglecting his cock. Matthew keeps his hand like that as they reach the next junction, a red light at a crossroads with an empty strip of road before them, illuminated by the streetlights. The car purrs as it waits, the atmosphere electric as Matthew’s fingers trail right up into Dominic’s crotch and the bodyguard whines.

A car pulls up next to them on Matthew’s side, and he reluctantly puts his hand on the gear stick instead. The occupants of the small Ford Fiesta are young and revving their engine.

Matthew giggles. The penny drops for Dominic.

“Matt--”

The lights change and Matthew floors it, leaving the Fiesta in the dust as he works his way through the gears in a practiced manner. Dominic can’t take his eyes off the road, petrified and horny beyond words, but then he glances to his side and finds there’s something else he can’t take his eyes off. Though his heart throbs in his chest in utter, bewildered fear that they are going to be arrested, or even killed by Matthew’s reckless driving, the thought of finally attaining satisfaction when they get in makes him almost glad that Matthew isn’t wasting time.

That is, until he hears the sirens.

“Fuck,” Dominic shakes Matthew’s left arm vigorously. “Matt, slow down. Slow the fuck down.”

Matthew laughs, turning towards Dominic. Absolutely out of his mind and Dominic thinks he looks stunning, even as he lets the car come to a slow at the side of the road and as the interior of the Mercedes is filled with flashing blue lights.

Dominic takes a deep breath, trying his hardest to conceal his erection and to slow his heart rate. He can see his court appearance and prison sentence now.

Two policemen stand at Matthew’s window, which he rolls down obligingly as one of them raps against the glass. “Step out of the car please,” one of them says, shining a torch inside at Dominic’s face. Dominic frowns and crosses his legs. “Both of you.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Matthew drawls, rolling his eyes. He pulls down the sun visor and pulls out a small pass, handing it to the policemen.

“Oh. Sir, I’m very sorry for pulling you over,” one of them says, before handing it back to Matthew. “We didn’t recognise the number plate. Have a safe night.”

Dominic gawps. How can they not see the state of his pupils, or smell the alcohol on his breath? If he had been driving, would Matthew have bothered to pull out his Get Out of Jail Free Card for him?

He tries not to think about it as Matthew revs the car loudly, before pulling off rapidly, aiming for the centre lane. “Fuck me,” Dominic mutters under his breath in disbelief.

“If you’re lucky,” Matthew giggles, before it morphs into a full blown laugh. He barely looks at the road as he laughs, speeding straight through a red light and a car honking angrily at him along the way.

“Matt! You’re going to kill us both!” Dominic shouts, furious. “You’re not above the fucking _law_.”

A dry laugh and a dark look. “I _am_ the law.”

Dominic wants to kiss him, he wants to reach across the centre console and kiss Matthew even if the forfeit is their lives and one very expensive car. Dominic think that might be the vodka talking or perhaps his dick, but then Matthew is finally slowing down and weaving the car down streets lined with trees and Porsches.

“Wait,” Dominic gapes. “Are we going to your _house?_ ”

Matthew huffs. “Flat,” he says curtly. “And one of them. Matthew Bellamy’s not supposed to live in this one, so keep your gob shut.”

They pull into an underground car park once more, and Dominic feels a shiver roll down his spine. The block of flats above them is at least twenty stories tall, and probably luxury, if he knows Matthew at all. Then again, after tonight, he’s not quite sure if he does.

Matthew cuts the engine as they pull into a space marked as Lewis Kingston. He climbs out - Dominic belatedly realising that while he had put a seatbelt on, Matthew hadn’t - and begins walking toward the lift, not even bothering to check behind to see if Dominic is following. He locks the car over his shoulder, the alarm beeping once as Matthew then presses the button for the lift.

They stand in silence for a few moments, Dominic fidgeting with his tie as Matthew casts sidelong glances at him, a small smile now playing on his lips.

“So,” Dominic says nervously, clearing his throat. “Lewis Kingston?”

“Technically died in Mexico City in 2007.”

They fall silent once more, just as the doors open before them. Matthew pushes Dominic in and he catches himself before he goes headfirst into the mirror, turning around to face Matthew, who presses the button as the doors slide closed behind them.

“You need to relax,” Matthew says, stepping between Dominic’s parted legs. “You need to just...”

Matthew’s words die in his mouth as Dominic kisses him, moaning into the kiss he’s been craving all evening and moaning with the promise of the release to come. Matthew kisses back with fervour, forcing his tongue into Dominic’s mouth as he grips the lapels of Dominic’s jacket. Dominic laughs quietly into the kiss. “I thought you wanted me to rinse my mouth.”

The kiss is broken sharply as Matthew shoves him away. “If your arse wasn’t so tight I’d fucking kill you right now,” he spits, inches from Dominic’s face, before crashing their mouths together once more. His hips pin Dominic to the wall, his erection grinding hard against Dominic’s, crashing their bodies against the buttons - all of them - and Dominic wonders if it may be intentional, in order to prolong their ride.

Six floors and a multitude of sloppy kisses later, Matthew growls against Dominic’s neck. “Finally.” He takes a stern hold of Dominic’s wrist and drags him from the lift to the waiting door, diving for a key in his pocket, unlocking the door and bursting in with his bodyguard in tow.

They haven’t been inside for ten seconds when Matthew begins to undress Dominic. He begins by flaying off the black jacket and sending it flying across the room. Next are the shirt buttons - unfastened so furiously that one is ripped clean off and bounces on the floor, vanishing out of sight. For the second time that evening Matthew undoes Dominic’s trousers and shoves them to the floor. Not wasting a moment, he seizes Dominic and guides him into the bedroom before he throws him to the bed, unclasping his belt buckle and approaching with a joyless, disciplinary frown.

Dominic, wearing only his unbuttoned shirt, his holster and his boxers, looks up at Matthew. This time he is unflinching; he’s waited all night for this, the release that Matthew refused to give him before.

Matthew, still fully clothed in his three piece suit, lets his erection fall forward in his boxers, putting one knee up on the bed.

“Christ, at least take your jacket off,” Dominic says, reaching up to slide the garment off Matthew’s shoulders, his charge’s face blank of emotion but his eyes darting all over the place. When he receives no resistance, Dominic makes the point of meeting Matthew’s eyes before taking his holster and pulling his arm out of the strap, setting it down on the chest of drawers. Dominic’s fingers make quick work of the waistcoat’s buttons, his knuckles brushing against Matthew’s chest, skin searing hot even through the shirt. Finally, Matthew stands in just his shirt and trousers, Dominic’s hands automatically heading for the top button of the shirt.

Matthew’s hand grips his wrist firmly, perhaps hard enough to leave a bruise. “No,” he orders.

“Why not?” Dominic retorts, feeling fingernails dig savagely into his wrist and wincing. Shaking off the hand, he draws back his lips in a snarl. “It’s the least I fucking deserve. What’re you so touchy about?”

“None of your fucking business.”

A coarse, bitter laugh. “Yes it bloody well is. You got a third nipple or something?”

Matthew’s hand shoots to Dominic’s throat, the blond gasping for air and grappling at the fingers now wrapped around his neck. “Say that again,” Matthew purrs. Flailing, Dominic fists one of his hands in Matthew’s shirt, pulling until the fabric tears wide open with a vicious sound.

Dropping his hand from Dominic’s neck, Matthew stares in amazement at his chest as if he’s never seen it before, as Dominic gasps for air. On the otherwise smooth flesh of his right pectoral muscle is a scar; not large - only a few inches long, really - but still disfiguring the immaculate skin with a contorted, bleached stain, where the natural pattern of the skin is twisted and wrinkled. Their eyes meet again after a prolonged, silent moment of observation, and Dominic sees a flicker of something in his charge’s eyes he hasn’t seen before.

“I fucking told you not to do that,” Matthew growls.

Dominic huffs. “Not that confident, then?”

Before Dominic even sees his boss’ face contort with insuppressible anger, a hand shoves him roughly in the chest, jolting him back into the mattress gracelessly. His view of the brash ceiling light swims dizzily before it is obscured by Matthew’s silhouette.

“I’m going to fucking kill you, you useless whore,” Matthew says, dropping his trousers and shrugging out of the ruined shirt. “Fuck you!” he shouted, grabbing Dominic’s boxers and roughly pulling them down his legs. “I’m going to fucking _tear your arse apart you fucking cunt!_ ” Matthew screams, and for the first time that evening Dominic begins to worry about the effects the drugs might be having. _You’re not meant to drink with coke, are you? But then I suppose you’re not really supposed to do coke either_. He hopes he won’t have to recreate Pulp Fiction anytime soon.

Dominic shuffles backwards away from the murderous outcries which seem to only be building in their ferocity, deflecting Matthew’s hands whenever he can, at one point wrestling one off his holster and another off his crotch. He’s not even sure what language Matthew’s speaking anymore - the various epithets of “ _schwule_ ” “ _qybah_ ”, and “ _tselka_ ” are making him wonder what Matthew’s first language actually is. Just when he thinks he might be able to shove Matthew off, however, a hand seizes each of his thighs painfully and parts them, slamming them down to the bed with a derisive sneer.

Matthews stops his screaming, though, when he finds himself staring down the barrel of Dominic’s pistol.

“No, you won’t.” Dominic says calmly, manoeuvring himself so he’s now sitting up, the gun lightly pressing between Matthew’s eyebrows. “You’ve fucked me around too much tonight. It’s my turn.”

Fury is plain on Matthew’s face, but he doesn’t move. “Oh. Well, if you’d told me,” Matthew says with sarcasm oozing from every word but his face remaining cold. “I might’ve been able to do something.”

Dominic smirks briefly, nudging the muzzle of the gun into Matthew’s forehead. “You are truly a cunt,” Dominic drawls. “Suck my dick.”

“Fuck off,” Matthew snorts, before Dominic nudges the gun into Matthew’s head again, his free hand stroking up and down his erection through his boxers, before pulling it to stand proud.

“I don’t think you have much of a choice. Makes us even, then,” Dominic says, threading his hand through Matthew’s hair once he’s done with his cock, pulling Matthew down into his crotch. “Blow me.”

His charge groans distastefully. “Fine. At least I can show you how it’s fucking done.”

Matthew looks up at Dominic, before taking the head of his cock into his mouth. Dominic groans; having been hard for most of the night has finally amounted, and he knows he really won’t last long. He wants to lie down and roll his head back into the pillows, but he knows that Matthew could disarm him and turn the tables in mere seconds if he lets his guard down.

He can’t resist the surge of power that runs through his veins though. “Have you ever sucked a dick before? You’re shit,” Dominic comments, aware that it isn’t true, but relishing the opportunity to take a dig. Matthew responds by purposefully scraping his teeth along Dominic’s dick on the upstroke. Dominic yelped in pain, smacking the butt of the pistol grip against the top of Matthew’s head. “You fucking cunt,” Dominic shouts, Matthew grinning around his cock. “Fucking finish me off, _now_ ,” he growls at the smirking man between his legs.

Matthew pulls his lips away from Dominic’s cock, a line of saliva linking the slick head of his dick to his full bottom lip. “No,” he says obstinately.

“Do it,” Dominic says calmly, “or I’ll put nine millimeters of lead right into your fucking skull.”

“But you won’t, though,” he asserts casually. “Will you?”

Dominic’s hand shakes. He could do it. He could pull the trigger if he wanted to and _blow his fucking shit-eating grin right off his face_. He could even frame it as suicide if he wanted to. Right now he couldn’t care less for the consequences. He’s not just a toy to be played with, and it’s time someone taught this prick a lesson he won’t forget.

So why can’t he _fucking do it_?

“I’ll do it,” he threatens. “I will, I swear to god--”

“Go on then.”

The sickening silence, hot and corrosive, continues for a few moments more before Dominic, trembling, lies the pistol on the cluttered bedside table with a tremulous click. The blue eyes watch lazily with a growing smile.

Matthew releases a low laugh, looking at Dominic’s still-hard dick. “I told you so.” 

*

“Fucking do it,” Matthew says with a giggle, the reverberation of his laughter causing the white powder to dance around a bit on his skin. He reclines on the desk, Dominic sitting in the chair with a rolled up fifty pound note in hand.

The desk, to be precise, was in the middle of the most top secret archives in the country, if not in Europe. Matthew was one of the only people with access, and Dominic wasn’t permitted to be in the room even as his bodyguard. That hadn’t stopped Matthew from inviting him in, or from snorting a line of cocaine from on top of a file from the Cold War, either.

Now, Matthew lies on the desk with his shirt undone, and a line of coke spread across his scar, parallel with his sternum. “Do it, you pussy,” Matthew shouts, before letting his head fall back with manic laughter.

Dominic has learnt, by now, that saying no to Matthew is not really an option. All the same, though, it’s hardly peer pressure pushing down his head and forcing him into it. It’s not the first time that he’s snorted coke. It’s a regular pastime of his since his misadventure with Matthew three weeks ago, and though he would have shunned the stuff like poison before, he has to admit it has a certain appeal. Or maybe it’s just Matthew, who knows? You never seem to have one without the other close behind.

The deed is done. His head buzzes jarringly just for a moment before the stuff starts to work its magic. Rubbing his nose, he runs a hand through his hair and surveys Matthew’s bare chest hungrily.

“Fuck, you look so good,” he mumbles.

“What was that?” Matthew taunts energetically. “You going all soft on me, Howard?”

Dominic grins, grabbing Matthew’s hand and pressing it against his erection. “What do you think,” he murmurs, before he stands up from the chair. Climbing up onto the desk, he straddles Matthew’s hips, to find that Matthew is feeling the same way about their situation as he is. Matthew tips his head back a little with a moan, and Dominic dives forward, hungrily kissing up along his neck. “Need your dick inside me, _C_ ,” Dominic hisses into Matthew’s ear, trying to kiss and lick every inch of skin he can reach. He shifts on the desk and almost falls off, until Matthew’s strong arms catch him.

“Take off your trousers, sunshine,” Matthew commands, and Dominic does as he’s told, stumbling off the desk in his eagerness to get rid of his shoes and suit trousers, jacket already abandoned before he did his line.

Matthew whistles lowly when he realises that Dominic isn’t wearing underwear. “You whore,” he murmurs as Dominic climbs back onto him with a grin on his face. “My whore. Hurry up,” Matthew says, hands sliding up and down Dominic’s sides, underneath his shirt and his holster.

“I... I stretched myself in the bathroom earlier,” Dominic says, shy grin only widening as Matthew’s mouth pops open in shock. Their eyes meet, pupils dilated, as Matthew groans.

“Slut,” Matthew hisses. Dominic’s fingers are already scrabbling at his belt and fly, rushing to pull Matthew’s boxers down a little as to free his cock.

“You got a condom?” Dominic asks with wide eyes, working his hands over Matthew’s cock. Matthew lifts his head a little.

“Yes,” he says, arching an eyebrow. “You don’t get one, though.”

Dominic smiles, as he always does when he’s off his face with Matthew, tugging his cock once more before he’s rearranging himself on the desk, and slowly sinking down onto Matthew’s dick. He withholds an abandoned cry as Matthew fills him, frantic hands roaming over the chest of the man beneath him. Dominic lifts himself up before sinking down again, this time unable to hold in the loud moan that bubbles up through his chest. Matthew grins at the sound, hands moving to cup Dominic’s arse, gripping the flesh.

“Moan for me, _puta_ ,” Matthew murmurs as Dominic arches his back, Matthew beginning to guide the man bouncing his lap. Thrusting up to meet him, Matthew’s cock hits Dominic’s prostate, Dominic only just catching himself as he fell forward, bracing himself against the desk.

“Right there!” he shouts. He might’ve heard a door slam shut at the end of the room, but he doesn’t particularly care because Matthew’s running his fingers through his hair. His body is on fire, covered in a sheet of sweat as Matthew’s cock edges deeper with every thrust.

Their rhythm barely breaks as Matthew coaxes the gun out of his holster, laying next to him on the desk.

“Keep going,” he mumbles. For the tiniest moment, his attention is diverted.

Dominic hears the shot, but he doesn’t hear the groan, or the slam of limp knees to the cold floor. He can’t hear them over the sound of his own sharp cries of delight as he approaches orgasm, driving his nails into Matthew’s shoulders.He doesn’t even see the intruder. All he sees is Matthew lying back, the job done, a smile on his face as he watches Dominic dance for him.

“My little whore,” Matthew murmurs with admiration, trailing the still hot muzzle of the pistol across Dominic’s chest, leaving a burning trail in its wake. Dominic watches with that grin still plastered across his face.


End file.
